The Perfect Scandal

Chapter Twenty-Two

Walking towards the reception desk, I nodded a greeting at Vaughn. His face was strained, mouth downturned as he stared at me. I shook it off, smiling in hopes to change his mood.

"Hey Vaughn," I chirped, getting ready to walk past his desk and to Mallory's office.

"Wait," he exclaimed, throwing himself up from his desk and trying to block me from getting past. "You can't go in there."

I laughed, shaking my head. "And why not?"

"Mrs. Morgan's request."

"Come on." My voice sounded whinny, but I was slowly getting irritated. Why would Mallory not want me to come back? Did it have something to do with the night in the hotel room? God, I hoped not. "Just let me in. If she asks, I got in when you weren't watching."

He seemed to contemplate the option, running a muscular hand through his fluffy, black curls. "I really shouldn't, Esme." A heavy sigh fell from his lips, and I knew what that meant. "But I can tell her you'd like to speak to her, through the intercom."

Leaning forward on his desk, a perfect smile on my lips. "Thanks so much, Vaughn, you're the best."

Nodding, he sat back down in his seat and hesitantly pressed the red button on the phone port. "Mrs. Morgan?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Esme is here." His voice shook, raising an octave. "She said she'd like to speak to you."

There was silence.

"Mrs. Morgan?"

"Tell Miss Holland to leave, she's excused for the day. I have no use for her. If I need her presence, I will call."

I raised my eyebrows, curling my mouth in annoyance. Vaughn glanced at me apologetically.

"I'm so sorry, I wish I could do somethi—."

"No," I stated, maneuvering around the desk and towards Mallory's office door.

Ignoring Vaughn's requests to come back, I stormed through the door, slamming it behind me. Mallory was seated at her desk, looking impossibly difficult with her glasses pushed up the bridge of her nose. She continued her work, doing whatever stupid paperwork the stupid city wanted her to do...stupidly.

Wow why am I like this.

Marching over to the desk, I waited, hands on my hips. I looked down at Mallory, who still did not take any notice to me. I knew there'd be consequences for disobeying and creating an overly dramatic entrance, and standing in front of her as if I were the mistress, but I cared little about the stupid consequences. Mallory would talk to me before I left. She would give witness to why she has been acting like a stubborn bitch.

"Miss," I blurted harshly.

Again, she paid no attention to me, so I repeated myself.

Her voice finally rang through, but the tone concerned me. There wasn't anger bubbling from the words. She was calm, like the center of a tornado. Mallory voice was the eye of the storm, and I worried about the aftermath. "Was I not clear in my directions?"

I spat back at her. "The connection must have been bad."

Slender fingers stopped their work and focused on removing glasses and setting them on the desk. Mallory finally looked up at me, blue eyes seemingly calm but raging beneath the surface like the chaotic waves in a hurricane. A smirk of amusement lined her nude lips, but I was sure it wasn't because my remarks were comical to her. Perhaps she was imagining all the ways she could torture and murder me, then discard the evidence.